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Pretend to be “of the land.” Crouch lower, take a closer look. Nestle an index finger in the crook of the sun-baked base-plate and the metal rod, sliding along the steel upright so rigid it could break your face. Slowly now… With a flip of the finger the hand truck quivers, then falls, clanging on rocks. A small cloud of dust. The dust settles in silt. The silt tickles your nose, inhale deep--through each sinus, grit on your nostrils--now tasting the earth. Ringing metallic. Maybe it’s gold, but Eddie says more likely your own nostalgia., 2015, acrylic and gesso on plasticized recycled bags, 34 x 22 inches (86.4 x 55.9 cm), unique.

Pretend to be “of the land.” Crouch lower, take a closer look. Nestle an index finger in the crook of the sun-baked base-plate and the metal rod, sliding along the steel upright so rigid it could break your face. Slowly now… With a flip of the finger the hand truck quivers, then falls, clanging on rocks. A small cloud of dust. The dust settles in silt. The silt tickles your nose, inhale deep--through each sinus, grit on your nostrils--now tasting the earth. Ringing metallic. Maybe it’s gold, but Eddie says more likely your own nostalgia., 2015, acrylic and gesso on plasticized recycled bags, 34 x 22 inches (86.4 x 55.9 cm), unique.

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Ya see ’em? Moving placer gravel up and out. Rasping and digging in the pits, beneath the ground floor of the gulch, a U-LINE hand truck. Each load of dirt wears the surface more tender. The salt from their palms oxidizes the handle bar in an accelerated rate. The palm plunges shovel through the grit, again. And again. Then the salt of the palm digs the hole in the bucket. The salt of the palm chucks the crate in the back of the rusty RV. The palm hangs the bucket to dry, wipes hair across brow, closes the door on the camper shell; feels the downy hair of the thigh. The salt of Eddie says go to sleep. You are better when face down. No, face up: let me slide two fingers up your abdomen and across your chest, tracing your sternum slowly with a chunk of corroded steel., 2015, acrylic and gesso on plasticized recycled bags, 34 x 22 inches (86.4 x 55.9 cm), unique. 

Ya see ’em? Moving placer gravel up and out. Rasping and digging in the pits, beneath the ground floor of the gulch, a U-LINE hand truck. Each load of dirt wears the surface more tender. The salt from their palms oxidizes the handle bar in an accelerated rate. The palm plunges shovel through the grit, again. And again. Then the salt of the palm digs the hole in the bucket. The salt of the palm chucks the crate in the back of the rusty RV. The palm hangs the bucket to dry, wipes hair across brow, closes the door on the camper shell; feels the downy hair of the thigh. The salt of Eddie says go to sleep. You are better when face down. No, face up: let me slide two fingers up your abdomen and across your chest, tracing your sternum slowly with a chunk of corroded steel., 2015, acrylic and gesso on plasticized recycled bags, 34 x 22 inches (86.4 x 55.9 cm), unique. 

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I wear denim and soiled ripstop. In the canyon I sport white athletic socks, hiking boots bought used from REI parking lot sale--no, cheapo Reeboks actually. My t-shirt shaded gray and with lightly brassy pit stains. The sweat collects at my hairline at the top of my head. Drips the SPF 30 off the tip of my nose. Chem-UVA-UVB droplets collecting on my chest hair, slithering down my core and abdomen and each notch of my spine. With every passing sun-minute my cotton shirt clings to my torso, closely now. The shirt darkening with perspiration, through the weave of the belt and soaking the 501s, dampens my athletic compression shorts, quads, junk, grime., 2015, acrylic and gesso on plasticized recycled bags on acrylic on linen, 43 x 43 inches (109.2 x 109.2 cm), unique.

I wear denim and soiled ripstop. In the canyon I sport white athletic socks, hiking boots bought used from REI parking lot sale--no, cheapo Reeboks actually. My t-shirt shaded gray and with lightly brassy pit stains. The sweat collects at my hairline at the top of my head. Drips the SPF 30 off the tip of my nose. Chem-UVA-UVB droplets collecting on my chest hair, slithering down my core and abdomen and each notch of my spine. With every passing sun-minute my cotton shirt clings to my torso, closely now. The shirt darkening with perspiration, through the weave of the belt and soaking the 501s, dampens my athletic compression shorts, quads, junk, grime., 2015, acrylic and gesso on plasticized recycled bags on acrylic on linen, 43 x 43 inches (109.2 x 109.2 cm), unique.

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Arroyo Seco Bedding Spoon, 2015, altered found material, dimensions variable, unique.

Arroyo Seco Bedding Spoon, 2015, altered found material, dimensions variable, unique.

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Eddie squats down by the river. Wal-Mart Reeboks toe-dipping in the water, back shining in the afternoon sun. We watch from above, silently now. The tributary winds a course past the succulents, the trash, the boulders and the Occitillo plant, covers the base of the milk crate, weaves through the plastic grating, buffs the grit. And a hand grabs your shoulder. Hot breath on my eyelids. Long hair brushing my forehead. Musk on my earlobes, meth teeth on my nose: growling, let’s get outta here. Rolling onto the stomach now: slide down the wet dirt and tumbled rocks in the dark; crushing ant hills and hiker cairns; slithering into the icy river; dissolving into pebbles; pebbles sifting through more rough hands; hands wiping and grabbing, swatting flies, laying tarp, setting up the tent in the shade of the black oak., 2015, acrylic on plasticized recycled bags on acrylic on linen, 54 x 43 inches (137.2 x 109.2 cm), unique.

Eddie squats down by the river. Wal-Mart Reeboks toe-dipping in the water, back shining in the afternoon sun. We watch from above, silently now. The tributary winds a course past the succulents, the trash, the boulders and the Occitillo plant, covers the base of the milk crate, weaves through the plastic grating, buffs the grit. And a hand grabs your shoulder. Hot breath on my eyelids. Long hair brushing my forehead. Musk on my earlobes, meth teeth on my nose: growling, let’s get outta here. Rolling onto the stomach now: slide down the wet dirt and tumbled rocks in the dark; crushing ant hills and hiker cairns; slithering into the icy river; dissolving into pebbles; pebbles sifting through more rough hands; hands wiping and grabbing, swatting flies, laying tarp, setting up the tent in the shade of the black oak., 2015, acrylic on plasticized recycled bags on acrylic on linen, 54 x 43 inches (137.2 x 109.2 cm), unique.

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Sluice Box, 2015, milk crate, found sex tissues, 19 x 13 x 11 inches (48.3 x 33.0 x 27.9 cm), unique.

Sluice Box, 2015, milk crate, found sex tissues, 19 x 13 x 11 inches (48.3 x 33.0 x 27.9 cm), unique.

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New Model Heaton Flats Domicile, 2015; DAC press-fit poles, Nylon PU 3000mm with webbing and grommets; Handcuff, Overhand, Boa knots; mixed media; 89.5 x 64 x 48 inches (227.3 x 162.6 x 121.9 cm); unique.

New Model Heaton Flats Domicile, 2015; DAC press-fit poles, Nylon PU 3000mm with webbing and grommets; Handcuff, Overhand, Boa knots; mixed media; 89.5 x 64 x 48 inches (227.3 x 162.6 x 121.9 cm); unique.

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19th-century study/Eddie, 2014, acrylic on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches (27.9 x 21.6 cm), unique.

19th-century study/Eddie, 2014, acrylic on paper, 11 x 8.5 inches (27.9 x 21.6 cm), unique.

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